


All I Want for Christmas is You

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Presents, Christmas in the Bunker, Dean's Been Avoiding Sam, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Estrangement, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Pining Sam, Season/Series 11, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: It's been two years since Sam was close to Dean. Two years since Sam learned of Dean's deal with the angel Gadreel.To be held again by Dean is all Sam really wants for Christmas, but can he bring the two of them back together by giving them a Christmas like they've never had?Sam hopes so.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the December 2016 round of the [Wincest Writing Challenge](http://wincestwritingchallenge.tumblr.com/).
> 
> My partner was [random-fireworks](http://random-fireworks.tumblr.com/) and my prompt was: Presents.

Home for Christmas. It felt weird to think of it like that, but Sam did as he sat in the Bunker’s kitchen and stared at his mug of coffee. Christmas was three days away, they’d been so busy working on cases and figuring out Amara’s deal that they’d lost track of time. Sam scrubbed at his face and looked around the functional space. Normally Dean was the nester, but he hadn’t pulled out the meagre box of decorations they’d started keeping in a closet when they’d moved in.

Crawling out of his own bed an hour earlier, Sam had keenly felt the distance that had grown between him and Dean, still not repaired since the removal of the Mark of Cain. He missed sleeping in Dean’s bed. Missed the way he’d pull Sam against him if Sam had a nightmare. Missed stroking Dean’s back and sides when he was having trouble relaxing. Missed waking up to kisses that left Sam in no doubt that Dean wanted to be with him.

Finishing his coffee, Sam stood up, took his empty mug to the sink and rinsed it out. Setting the mug aside to dry, Sam headed out of the kitchen. He walked to the closet that held their decorations, the door part of the way towards their bedrooms. Sam rolled up the sleeves of his red plaid shirt and opened the closet. It took a moment to dig out the box, its brown cardboard straining under the weight it held as Sam picked it up.

Sam carried the box against his hip and took it out to the map room. Setting the box down, Sam started to put together a list in his head of what he needed to do to make things a touch more festive around the Bunker.

“Time to get a tree.”

***

Flurries of snow whipped past Sam as he studied the Christmas trees for sale on a small lot in a corner of Concordia. None of it was settling, the temperature not quite cold enough, but still so chilly and icy to have compelled Sam to wrap up in a thick quilted green jacket, a blue woolen hat on his head, blue scarf around his neck and gloves on his hands.

Dean hadn’t even gotten up yet when Sam had left the Bunker for the hour or so drive. So Sam had left him a note, letting know he’d headed over to Concordia. Not why, though if his brother crawled out of bed long enough to head into the map room, maybe he would guess. He hadn’t taken the Impala to Concordia, no way Dean would be happy if a tree ended up scratching up all the paint on the car’s roof. Instead he’d taken an old Chevy pick-up that they had kicking around.

Soggy wood chippings squished under Sam’s boots as he walked past rows of firs. The tree didn’t need to be perfect, Sam knew no such thing existed, but it just had to look like it would be right at home in the middle of the map room. Heading to where the taller trees had been gathered, Sam finally found one that was about a foot taller than him, deep green needles looking just so.

“Hey,” Sam called to the seller, “I’ll take this one.”

***

Having secured the tree in the back of the Chevy, Sam had just been about to drive home when he spotted a store he’d never seen in the town before–a thrift store. Concordia was one of the nearest bigger towns to Lebanon, so Dean and Sam had gotten to know it pretty well since they’d moved into the Bunker. Sam crossed the street and headed inside, drawn in by the store’s unfamiliarity.

A bell tinkled overhead as Sam opened the door, greeted by the slight mustiness that always clings to pre-owned things. Inside the store was packed with odds and ends that had been organized into sections based on clothes, furnishings, books and musical instruments. It was to this last section that Sam walked over to, eyes fixed on an acoustic guitar that had been set on a stand.

The body was red and black, with a cut away to make it easier to reach those higher notes lower down on the fretboard. Sam remembered Dean had learned to play a little when he’d been at Sonny’s home as a teenager, but it had been some time since he'd played, and never on his own guitar. Dean had never owned a guitar–it being too impractical to keep one in the Impala when they’d use to spend so much time on the road–Sam decided it was time to change that.

Picking his way over to the only counter in the store, Sam tried to get the attention of the clerk who had her nose buried in a copy of _The Hobbit_. Her red hair and choice of reading material briefly made Sam think of Charlie. The hurt that stabbed at his chest threatened to overwhelm the small light of festive cheer he’d been fostering since earlier that morning. Swallowing hard, fighting the tears that wanted to come, Sam cleared his throat.

“Oh, hi. Sorry I didn’t see you there. May I help you?” the clerk asked, putting her book down.

“It’s fine. I know what it’s like to get lost in a good book… There’s a guitar you’ve got that I’d like to buy,” said Sam as he pointed back towards where it was.

“Oh sure, yeah, it’s got a hard case too,” said the clerk, hopping down from the stall she’d been sat on. She started walking towards where the guitar was.

“I didn’t see a price label on it.”

“It should be eighty dollars.” They reached the guitar. “This one right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Sam looked the instrument over again and felt a rightness to picking this gift over anything else. He’d have to hide it in his room, in his wardrobe, but it really would be a surprise so long as he managed to smuggle it into the Bunker.

“Alright, I’ll find the case for you and I think we’ve got a cheap digital tuner outback for sale if you’re interested. The steel strings are new, so shouldn’t need replacing for a long while.” The clerk picked the guitar out of the stand.

“Sounds good.”

***

“Sam?” Dean called from within the kitchen.

Glancing over his shoulder, Sam smiled as Dean walked into the map room. He flicked on the tree’s lights. “Let there be light,” Sam sing-songed and turned to face Dean. “What do you think?”

Dean looked between Sam and the tree. “What’s this?”

“It’s a Christmas tree, Dean.” Sam padded over to his brother and hoped that he wouldn’t hate the tree. That the hours he’d spent bringing it all together wouldn’t be for nothing.

“I can see that, why’s it here?” Crossing his arms, Dean quirked an eyebrow at Sam.

“It’s less than three days until Christmas and I thought,” Sam waved towards the tree, “why not.”

A flicker of something passed over Dean’s face and then he relaxed, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth. “That tree’s taller than you.”

Sam stepped into Dean’s personal space and reached out a hand towards him. “A six foot fir wouldn’t look right in here,” Sam pointed out, taking Dean’s left hand in his right. He squeezed Dean’s hand and Dean turned towards him, breath visibly catching in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stood this close to Dean and it wasn’t because they were trying to cover each other’s backs on a hunt.

“Sam, I… I don’t know what to say.”

Swallowing, Sam asked in a whisper, “Let’s stay home for Christmas, okay?”

Dean let go of Sam’s hand. For a moment Sam worried he’d gone too far, but then Dean grinned. “You gonna cook?” Dean muttered, almost afraid that someone other than Sam would hear him.

Chuckling, Sam gently shook his head. “I was gonna get some pre-cooked ham, veggies and stuff.”

“If we’re gonna do Christmas,” Dean murmured, “we’re gonna do it right. I’ll cook.”

“Fine, but I’m helping you buy groceries.”

***

Dean hadn’t cooked a whole ham before, and so Sam had to manage his brother’s expectations when they went to Concordia the following day. It was Christmas Eve and the streets of Concordia were filled with last minute shoppers. The oven back at the Bunker was sizeable, but they didn’t need a ham as big as both of their heads put together.

“Dean, I’m not eating ham for a whole week.”

“Who said it’d last a week?”

“Pick a smaller one.”

Grumbling under his breath, Dean picked out a ham that would only land them with a few days of leftovers. Moving onto the fresh produce, they picked up potatoes and a host of other vegetables to turn into sides to serve up with their two man feast. Elsewhere they grabbed what they needed for mac ‘n’ cheese and a few other odds and ends. They grabbed beers and eggnog too. Passing by a few other aisles, they ended up having a snacks splurge, grabbing chips and dip and a few of frozen pies.

To pay for their haul, they sacrificed a credit card that had almost reached its limit. Driving back through Concordia before heading towards Lebanon, Dean seemed distracted. Sam kept glancing over at his brother, wondering what was up and he was about to ask when Dean pulled the Impala over to the side of a street lined with stores.

“Would you… wait here?” Dean asked.

Nodding, Sam watched his brother get out, put some change in a meter and then walk off down the street where Sam couldn’t quite see which store he’d gone into. Pulling out his cell, Sam checked his emails while he waited for Dean.

It was fifteen minutes until he returned, seemingly with nothing.

***

Having been shooed out of the kitchen so Dean could prep the food for the following day, Sam was in his own room with Dean’s Christmas present flat on his lap. On top of the acoustic guitar was the tuner he’d bought in the thrift store. He had his cell loaded up to a web page that listed what notes the strings were meant to be tuned to and the tuner’s digital needle jumped about as he twisted the tuning pegs around, and plucked the strings.

Sam had never been particularly musical in school, but he knew that the bottom sixth string, the thickest string, was meant to be the bassier of the two E strings that guitars had. Carefully, ensuring he didn’t twist the pegs too harshly with his massive fingers, Sam worked his way through the guitar’s strings, tuning it as the tuner directed.

When the tuner’s needle jumped to the correct place for each string, Sam put the tuner down. He picked up a soft cloth and cleaned the guitar’s panels, wiping away his fingerprints until the surface shined. His hands shook a little as he admired the instrument and thought about how Dean might react when he gave it to him.

Satisfied he’d done all he could for the guitar, Sam put it back in its hard, black case and placed it back in his wardrobe. Sam headed out of his room and went to see if Dean needed his help.

He was shooed back out of the kitchen.

***

Waking up alone in his bed, Sam breathed in the fresh scent of roasting ham and other smells he was less familiar with. His mouth watered all the same. If the previous evening was anything of an indication, Dean wouldn’t want Sam in the kitchen much at all.

Instead Sam delayed going to his brother, heading to the bathroom first instead. Showering, Sam tried to ignore the little flips his stomach was making. He hadn’t felt that level of nervous since he’d finally told Dean everything, back before he left for Stanford. Told Dean with a kiss and a nervous laugh, expecting his brother to push him away. Sam hadn’t expected Dean to go for him like a drowning man getting his first full breaths, but he had.

Finishing up in the shower, Sam quickly dried himself and went back to his room. He’d slept in for once and it was approaching noon. Throwing on underwear, jeans, a black t-shirt and some blue plaid, Sam grabbed the guitar out of his wardrobe and headed for the kitchen.

“Yo, Sammy? You getting up sometime this century?” Dean yelled just as Sam approached the kitchen.

“Dean, close your eyes,” Sam called back.

“Ooh, kinky. Alright, I’ll play.”

Sam walked into the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Dean standing by the stove, eyes closed, his black t-shirt covered by a white apron. Drawing in a deep breath, Sam walked up to Dean and held the case up in front of him.

“Open your eyes,” Sam ordered.

Dean’s eyes snapped open and went from Sam’s face to the case he was holding. “Sam, is that…”

“Merry Christmas, Dean. And yeah, it’s a guitar.” Sam smiled, he headed over to the kitchen table and put the case down. He flicked its catches open and lifted the case lid. Dean pressed in behind Sam to look at the guitar and he could feel his brother’s breath catch.

“Sammy, I don’t know what to say.”

“Thanks would be a start and whether you like it.”

Dean said neither of those things, opting to put his hands on Sam’s hips, turn him around and push him against the edge of the table as he kissed Sam on the lips. It was as if a bubble had finally been popped. The kiss broke down almost two year’s worth of separation and Sam felt his throat grow tight.

Too soon the kiss was over, but Dean didn’t back away, he wrapped his arms around Sam and hugged him close, Sam doing the same. Sam nuzzled at Dean’s neck, breathing in his still familiar scent of sandalwood and gun oil mixed with his musk.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, voice shaking. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”

Unwinding his arms from Dean, Sam placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks and held his face. “Don’t say that, please, Dean. I’m here. You’re here.” Sam pressed his mouth to Dean’s and kissed him, first softly and then harder, almost disbelieving of the contact. Breaking the kiss, Sam continued to hold Dean’s face in his hands. “I’ve only ever wanted you, Dean.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me any more,” Dean whispered.

“Maybe... y’know... at first. But with the Mark gone...” Sam hiccuped, holding back tears that wanted to fall.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, body sagging a little.

“Me too... We’re here now,” Sam soothed, holding onto Dean as he gently kissed him.

A pot lid shook over on the stove and suddenly Dean was no longer pushing Sam up against the table. Sam stayed where he was, worried that moving would undo what had just happened between them. Waiting, Sam tried to stay calm as he watched Dean turn down the rings of the stove.

Worried that Dean was about to bolt, Sam started to say something, but then Dean was in his space, kissing him, tongue sliding between his lips and demanding entrance. Sam opened himself to Dean, each kiss sealed closed wounds that Sam knew he’d had, and had tried so hard not to pick. They started to grind against each other and Dean wedged his right knee between Sam’s thighs, hands trailing under Sam’s shirts as their bodies started to relearn each other.

A timer sounded on Dean's cell and Dean broke away from Sam with a grunt. Dean looked poised to just turn stuff down on the stove again, but then Sam’s stomach rumbled.

“Food first,” Dean ordered, voice hoarse from making out. Sam smirked as he watched Dean having to adjust himself as he made his way back over to the stove.

***

Full of good food, Sam was snuggled up against Dean’s side as the two of them sat and watched _Die Hard_ in Dean’s room. The bed beneath him was as comfy as Sam remembered. It was like the last two years hadn’t happened and Sam’s heart felt like it would burst. Every so often, Dean would kiss the top of Sam’s head. His hand kept stroking Sam’s side.

The film progressed, but somewhere around the time the siege became known to the police, Dean and Sam had slipped down the bed and were messily making out. Hot wet mouths sucking and licking, turning each other on and driving needy moans out of both of them. Dean led the way in getting their clothes off. Sam watched his brother lick and spit on his palm, using his left arm to keep himself above Sam. He cried out the second Dean took them both in hand.

Mouths mashing together once more, Dean stroked them, thumb sliding over their slits and smearing their pre-come over their hard lengths. Skirting his hands over Dean’s back and arms, Sam drank Dean in through touch. Having Dean take care of him was nothing like what had happened with Piper some months ago, in a time and place that seemed like it had happened in a different life.

Pulling back a little for air, Dean’s hand sped up. “Missed you, baby boy. Fuck… missed you so much,” Dean whined.

“Fu– missed you… too,” Sam panted out and then pulled Dean back to him, licking his way into Dean’s mouth. Dean tasted of beer and apple pie. Tasted of home and forever.

The two of them rutted into Dean’s fist, the smell of sex and need filling the air. Dean’s fist sped up and Sam keened deep in his throat. Sam wavered on the edge of release and then his orgasm crashed through, leaving him sobbing and shaking as he came.

Dean quickly followed. “Christ, Sammy!” Dean cried out, finally spilling between them. He shuddered as he came, his supporting arm giving out not long after. Covering Sam, Dean kissed Sam sweetly, the day’s growth the only harsh thing touching his skin.

Eventually Dean rolled off of Sam and got a cloth to clean them up with. The film was just background noise once they were clean. Both still naked, Sam sat up in the bed when Dean walked over holding a small black box.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” said Dean, holding the black velvet box out to him.

Taking the box from his brother, Sam wondered what was inside it. The box was flatter and wider than a ring box. Sam opened the box–inside was a plain silver, snake chain bracelet. It was beautiful.

“Thank you, Dean,” said Sam, pulling his brother down into another kiss. The gift was thoughtful and practical, providing Sam an easy way of checking for shapeshifters, werewolves and many other things that go bump in the night.

“C’mon, let me put it on you,” Dean asked once they came up for air. Sam nodded and held out his left wrist.

Touch nearly reverent, Dean took the chain out of the box and fixed it to Sam’s wrist. There was a comforting weight to it. Dean kissed Sam’s pulse and crawled back into bed with him, pulling the covers over them. Holding Dean this time, Sam kissed the top of Dean’s head as they watched the rest of the film, finally together again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments appreciated.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at [dreamsfromthebunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/).


End file.
